


Down by the Riverside

by Anonymous



Category: Lockwood & Co. - Jonathan Stroud
Genre: Adding the cubbones tag because we all knew it was gonna end up here sooner or later, Backstory, Canon Typical Violence, Gen, Locklye is mostly just mentioned, Recovery, Will add tags as I go, minor character death later on, soneone yell at me to finish this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:20:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24737563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “I don’t know why I go the way, down by the riverside.” Riverside, Agnes Obel
Relationships: Flo Bones/George Cubbins, Lucy Carlyle/Anthony Lockwood
Kudos: 12
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my take on Flo’s backstory, I find her character fascinating. I’ve written about 4K words so far, but I need some encouragement to make it to the finish line. I figured I’d post the first few chapters every few days, and hopefully have more written by then. Enjoy!
> 
> Title is from a haunting song by Agnes Obel.

She always hid when they came - The agents with their silver jackets and mournful faces who visited the orphanage to administer psychic aptitude tests to the children. Some children longed to be chosen - to be part of a team if not part of a family. But not Florence. Florence always hid. 

It wasn’t because she was afraid- she was a fierce little girl with an independent streak, in trouble more often than not for scrapping with the other children who made fun of her name - Her gangly arms and legs had earned her the hated nickname Flo Bones. She wasn’t even afraid of the voices of the dead that spoke at night, or the apparitions outside the orphanage windows. 

Florence had been at the orphanage as long as she remembered, though if she pushed at the edges of her mind, she could almost remember a quiet man with a kind face, and a woman with sparkling eyes and an infectious laugh. It was a common tragedy - adults were always falling victim to ghost touch, blind as they were. But even so, most of the other children had been given up at birth by young agents who’d gotten into trouble. The bigger agencies forced the girls to give up their babies and get back to work, but frequently sent assessment teams to check in on whether the children had inherited their parents psychic abilities. The orphanage gave the children names - common combinations of first and last names that all sounded alike. Florence didn’t know anything about her parents, but at least she knew her name.

Florence Bonnard. Emphasis on the second syllable.

So when the agents came, Florence looked at their identical blank expressions and hid. It was losing her identity that Florence feared. After all, it was all she had.

***  
The couple was young - or at least she thought they were couple. If she had known they were agents, she would have hidden from them like all the others. The man was serious but kind looking, and the woman had a quick smile. They looked a little like the parents she sometimes remembered just as she was falling asleep. Later, Florence would learn not to linger in doorways, but that day she peeked through the crack in the door at the couple sitting across the desk from the director. The young woman caught sight of her and smiled warmly. The director turned to follow her gaze and called Florence in.

“Perhaps you’d like to start with her?”

Florence knew her mistake as soon as she stepped in and caught sight of the gleaming rapiers at their belts, but this time, she didn’t feel afraid. The man and woman, who now she realized were really in their late teens, didn’t carry the hollowness she usually saw in agents eyes. 

“Hello, love, my name is Susan, and this is Harry. What’s your name?”

Florence answered as she always did.

“Florence Bonnard, emphasis on the second syllable.”

Susan laughed.

“You’re a precocious little thing, I like you already. Harry and I are looking for an apprentice to join our agency, Sinclair and Soanes. Have you ever taken a psychic aptitude test before?”

Florence nodded. 

Sometimes she wasn’t able to duck out of the tests, but it was easy enough to claim you saw nothing, heard nothing. Today, she passed with flying colors.

A lot of paperwork and a little packing later, Florence was bundled into the back of a cab with her new guardians. 

Susan chattered about the office and upstairs apartment that was their working and living space, and the little room they’d prepared just for her.

Harry was quieter, but pulled a bag out of his coat pocket and offered it to Florence as soon as they were on their way. 

“Do you like licorice, Florence?”

“Florence seems like such a big name for a little girl,” Susan said, “what do you say we call you Flo?”

For once, munching on licorice on her way to a new life, it didn’t sound so bad. She beamed at them both.

“I think I’d like that.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some familiar faces show up in this chapter!

The three of them made a splendid team. Harry and Susan doted on Flo like a beloved younger sister, and for her part, Flo was willing to do anything to make good. It didn’t hurt that her talent was strong and she took to the rapier like she was born to it.

Every morning, Harry would tutor her in fencing, pairing her up with the straw dummy in the corner of the storefront they used as an office. Susan would mind the office, sipping coffee while the other two worked, occasionally joining in or cheering Flo on from the sidelines.

In the afternoon, Susan would take over, teaching Flo all manner of things from cooking to curling her hair, to the business of running an agency. They went grocery shopping and researching at the Archives. She joked that she and Harry would retire at the ripe old age of 20 or so, and leave the business to Flo. Flo learned to take calls, place orders and handle distraught clients.

At night, they’d visit their clients homes, working seamlessly as a team. Susan and Harry has worked together for so long, they seemed to read each others minds. Flo absorbed their example like a sponge. When the case was done, they’d head back to the apartment, and share some licorice. After particularly difficult cases, Susan would make Flo a cup of hot chocolate or too sweet coffee and they’d sit under a blanket together until they fell asleep.

They did a good business for a small agency, occasionally teaming up with another independent agent and his apprentice for bigger cases. At first, Flo didn’t think much of the other apprentice, a posh boy Flo’s age who went my his last name, wore sunglasses at night because his sight was so sensitive, and had a preoccupation with his hair. She thought it was all for show until their first case, when his superior sight gave them the early warning they needed to subdue a cluster of dangerous ghosts.

“Does everyone really call you Lockwood?” she asked, as they packed up after the case. 

“For the most part, yes, they do.”

Flo eyed him. 

“Huh. Well, I think I’ll call you Locky. Less of a mouthful.”

She reached out and messed up his hair.

***

“Have a look at this,Flo!”

Susan passed her a notice she’d picked up on her way back from researching a case at the archives.

Flo took the paper and Harry peered over her shoulder.

“DEPRAC Open Fencing Competion,” she read aloud.

Harry nodded.

“I competed in one of these a while back - mostly Fittes agents, but Flo could take them. What do you say, Flo?”

Flo grinned.

“I say, lets mop the floor with their fancy silver jackets!”

Her first round was too easy. Harry had told her it would be, and not to get cocky. Her opponent had lost his grip on his rapier after just a few swipes of Flo’s blade.

She paced the edge of the rings to get a view of the remaining matches, nearly colliding with a blonde, bespectacled boy near the refreshment tables. He was Fittes, wearing an ill fitting silver jacket with a number pinned to the back. 

“Sorry,” he said around a mouthful of donut.

Flo sniffed.

“Lost your round already? And here I thought you Fittes agents were supposed to be the ones to beat.”

The boy shrugged, unconcerned.

“I’m just here for the food, really. There’s more to being an agent than swinging a sword around. Now if you want to beat someone, do us all a favor and beat that bloke.” He gestured with his chin to a smug faced redhead from Fittes with a flashy rapier.

“He’s the favorite to win, insufferable bastard. Seeing him get thrashed would make all this nonsense worth it.”

Flo’s lips quirked into a smile. She liked this boy in spite of his Fittes association.

“I’ll see what I can do...Cubbins” she said, reading the name printed on the paper pinned to his uniform.

It turned out Lockwood saved her the trouble of beating the Fittes favorite, beating him handily and finishing the round with a poke to the bottom. Flo caught Cubbins’ eye accross the room and grinned.

It came down to her and Lockwood. They’s never sparred together, but she’d been keeping an eye on him in the matches. He was good, but he always lowered his point in third. Flo shook his hand cordially and then gave him a thrashing. She ended up pushing him back until he stumbled over his own feet and fell backwards. 

“Nice job, Locky,” she said as she pulled him up.

Harry and Susan beamed as a mustachioed man from DEPRAC placed a gold medal around her neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve decided to post the same amount of words as I write each day...thanks for reading, I’d love to hear your thoughts!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Character death by ghost touch in this chapter.

Years passed. Flo grew from a fierce young girl to a sharp tongued teen - “sharp enough to cut herself,” one client commented. She was full of the confidence of one who knew they were good at what they did. Harry and Susan, just crossed into their twenties, were starting to see their talents fade, but Flo was determined to more than make up the difference. She swore she would never let anything happen to them.

Other things became clear as Flo got older, and she began to realize that Susan and Harry had become more than just partners. It didn’t bother her - she loved them both and their happiness made her happy. One day, they would be able to step away from the business and start in a different sort of partnership, and leave the agency in Flo’s capable hands. 

“Tonight’s case is a chapel in Dulwich, sounds like a Limbless.” Susan briefed Harry and Flo after their morning rapier practice.

“Maybe we ought to ring Sykes and Lockwood, see if they can help,” Flo said around a mouthful of licorice. 

Harry grinned and nudged Susan with his elbow.

“What do you know? Looks like our Flo has taken a shine to the Lockwood boy,” he teased gently.

“Have not!” Flo insisted. Lockwood was growing into a nice looking young man, and truth was, she did like him - which was to say she liked making fun of his tight suits, and his perfect hair, and the way he sweet-talked their way out of the trouble that Flo’s sharp tongue often got them in. But none of that was why she wanted him along. She’d never had the heart to say to Susan and Harry that their talents were waning, but Limbless were serious business.

“Don’t be embarrassed, Flo,” Susan laughed, “you’d make a cute couple!”

Flo shrugged - she wasn’t embarrassed.

“Eh, he’s far too lah-di-dah for my taste,” she said, finishing off her licorice. “Now what about this Limbless?”

“Some of the altar boys reported seeing it after and evening devotion last week. The visitor didn’t show any signs of aggression, so I’m thinking a pretty weak type two, and only because the boys description matches that of a limbless. Yech.” She made a face. “But I think the three of us can handle it.”

It was just barely dark, when they arrived at the chapel. An elderly vicar met them and gave them a brief tour. He blessed them and hurried off. It felt like a hundred other cases. Harry and Flo snacked on licorice, Susan drank coffee and offered some to Flo. Flo put in enough sugar cubes to build a house. Some families watched television in the evening. This family sat in iron circles and waited for ghosts.

Flo saw it first - of course she did. The swollen corpse appeared in the far corner. The creeping fear was strong but they were used to it. Harry stepped out of his circle to draw it out Flo and Susan began to search for the source. No one noticed the creeping fear as it grew and doubled. Flo glanced over her shoulder periodically to check on Harry.

“I think I’ve got it!” Susan cried.

“I’ve got your back!” Flo took up position behind her as Susan pulled a silver net from her belt. Flo glanced again over her shoulder. What she saw made her blood run cold. 

“Harry, behind you! There’s another one!”

Susan should have bound the source, and left the second limbless to Flo. Any agent knew that. Instead she spun around, abandoning binding the source of the first limbless to rush past Flo toward Harry, rapier drawn.

The first limbless darted back toward its source now that the silver net had fallen away, coming directly at Susan, who was focused on the limbless hovering behind Harry. Harry spun as the limbless darted past him toward Susan throwing a last frenzied attack as it passed, and turning right right into the second visitor. Time slowed to a standstill. Harry and Susan we’re both ghost touched, calling out each other’s names as they fell. 

Flo would never forget that sound - it was the sound of her heart breaking, of her entire world shattering to pieces. Flo’s rapier clattered to the floor as she pressed her hands over her mouth, shaking uncontrollably. She stumbled backwards, falling to the floor as the limbless advanced on her together. Distantly, she resigned herself that in a moment, she too would be ghost touched, and they’d all be together again. The pain like a rapier being driven into her heart would go away. But something deeper than the pain surged forward - the will to live - and sent her scrambling back not a second too soon. Her back hit the altar, and she pulled her self up. With her rapier lying useless beyond the Visitors, she improvised. She wrenched the heavy iron cross from the altar, swinging it at the visitors with a scream of wordless rage and pain. But the cross was unwieldy, and eventually, her strength gave out, and she slid down the wall, wedging the cross in front of her. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t bear to look out and see her mentors’ lifeless forms, stretched out and reaching for each other. She couldn’t breathe. The walls were closing in on her, her world shrinking to a tiny bubble of space. A thousand years later, the sun rose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How Flo ends up by the river, plus a little Holly cameo

She’d been sedated for days. DEPRAC operatives had peeled her from her corner, just in time to see Harry and Susan being carried out on stretchers, sheets covering their faces. Flo screamed their names. The medical staff on site had to wrestle her to the floor to inject the sedative. At the hospital, when the sedative began to wear off, Flo found her self in a tiny white room with walls that pushed down and in until she couldn’t even breathe. She thrashed and cried out, throwing herself from the bed to the window only to find it didn’t open. A nurse administered another sedative. And the next time she felt the walls closing in on her, she found that her arms and legs were bound to the bed.

Finally, she was too exhausted to fight the bonds, and the staff took that to mean she was doing better. She told them what they wanted to hear, and they discharged her, calling a up a night cab to drive her home. Flo didn’t want to think about Home without Harry and Susan, but she didn’t want to spend anymore nights in the hospital either. She caught sight of her reflection in the dark windows. She looked as hollow as the agents she had hid from as a child. She’d become them after all. The cab dropped her off outside the storefront and she let herself in, dodging some DEPRAC tape across the door denoting that the agency was closed. With single minded purpose, she headed up to her small room and collapsed fully clothed onto her bed, falling into the dreamless sleep of exhaustion.

Hours later, the pounding of her own heart woke her. She sat up in bed, gasping for air. The walls pressed in until she was once again wedged in the tiny alcove. She lurched out of bed, and ran down the steps, throwing the door open and gulping the night air. She knew her mistake as soon as she the door swung shut behind her. No one ventured out unprotected at night. As if summoned by her thoughts, a visitor drifted into view a few storefronts down. Flo didn’t have her rapier, and couldn’t stomach the thought of going back inside. So she ran. She ran as fast as her legs would carry her. She ran from other visitors, some that just watched and others that pursued her for a bit until they were ultimately drawn back to their sources. She ran to the only place she knew she would be safe. She ran until her boots splashed in the mud of the Thames, and she collapsed, letting the roar of the waves drown out her sobs.

***  
Covered in mud from the thigh down, Flo trudged back to the agency the next morning, finding Lockwood peeking in the front window.

“Locky?” Her voice was strained from screaming and crying.

“Flo! I’ve been looking for you- they wouldn’t let anyone see you at the hospital. Are you alright? Where have you been? Why are you all muddy?”

Concern was etched in Lockwood’s face.

“Doesn’t matter,” she walked up to stand beside Lockwood, peering into the window. Lockwood reached over and squeezed her hand. 

“I know it’s hard to go in,” he whispered. “I know what it’s like to be alone.”

He glanced over at her.

“But you aren’t, you know. Alone, that is . You’ve got me.” 

“Excuse me, is this the Sinclair and Soanes agency?”

Flo and Lockwood spun toward the unfamiliar voice. A polished looking girl in a Rotwell uniform stood behind them. checking the address against a paper in her hand. 

“Yes, but we’re closed today.” Flo cleared her throat and strove for professionalism. 

“Yes, I know - my name is Holly Munro, I’m and administrative assistant at Rotwells. DEPRAC has reassigned any open cases to us. I’m here to collect your case book and appointment book.”

Anger bubbled up inside Flo, and she welcomed it. She advanced on the other girl until they were toe to toe.

“Flo,” Lockwood said warningly.

“You take your fancy red jacket back to whoever sent you, and tell them from me, that as long as I live and breathe, Sinclair and Soanes is an independent agency. Got that, Rotwell?”

The girl - Holly - took a step back, her eyes darting to Lockwood for help. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name...” she trailed off.

Lockwood grabbed Flo’s arm an hauled her behind him.

“This is Flo Bonnard, she was their apprentice,” said over his shoulder as he pushed Flo back toward the wall. Holly lips formed a sympathetic ‘oh.’

“Listen, Flo,” he whispered, blocking her view of Holly. “DEPRAC’s already taken over. You can’t run the agency by yourself because you’re not fully licensed. There’s nothing you can do. This girl here is just doing her job. Stay here. I’ll go in and get the books so you don’t have to.”

Lockwood threw a reassuring smile at Holly, and ducked inside, rifling through Susan’s desk for their case book and appointment calendar.

“I am terribly sorry,” Holly said to Flo as they waited. “I’ve lost a team too.”

Flo didn’t acknowledge her. They had been so much more than just a team.

“Say, is this your medal?” Holly asked, peering in the window where they had proudly hung Flo’s fencing medal so many years before.

“Yeah. Fat lot of good that it did me.”

Holly looked uncomfortable, but not unkind, as she accepted the books from Lockwood.

“You know, when you’re ready, you might apply to Rotwells, we could use someone with your skills. You could mention my name.”

Lockwood had to physically restrain Flo as Holly hurried away.

That night found Flo at the riverside once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the sad chapter...thank you for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flo drifts into relic collecting. Just a warning, there is a brief moment of groping, and Flo puts a stop to it immediately, but I wanted to put that upfront in case it was triggering to anyone reading this.
> 
> This was a chapter that was originally two, so it’s a bit longer than the earlier ones.

Weeks went by, days that started and ended on the banks of the Thames. Good old Locky checked in on her every day, coming to find her by the riverside

“I’ve convinced Sykes to let you join tonight’s case, if you’re up for it.”

Lockwood sat beside her on a wall overlooking the water.

“You’ve got to get back to work some time, how long will they let you stay at the apartment?”

Flo had no idea. But it felt good, that night, holding a rapier in her hand again. She could almost hear Harry’s voice coaching her, and Susan’s cheers. She didn’t remember much after that, heading into the dark house had set her heart pounding, hyperventilating until she was faint from lack of oxygen. Lockwood ended up dragging her out and propping her up like a broken doll in a circle of iron chains. Harry and Susan would be so ashamed of her. She was ashamed of herself.

While Lockwood and Sykes were still inside, Flo recovered herself, coiled up the chains and left them by the door for Lockwood. A door had swung closed in her mind. She wasn’t going to be an agent again. The realization had been creeping on her for days, only now solidifying into fact. And it hurt less than she thought it would. After all, no amount of sealed sources would bring Harry and Susan back. All that was left was all she’d ever had - Florence Bonnard, fierce and independent. She made her way back to the flat instead of the river, only to find that the landlord had changed the locks. No matter. Flo smashed the window on the back door and let herself in. She picked up an empty burlap supply sack, and made her way through the office, gathering things that should have belonged to her anyway. She took her gold medal from the window. She took the relics they kept on display in the office. She took things to remember Harry and Susan by, but mostly she took things to sell.

The morning found her wandering the seedier districts of London for a fence who wouldn’t ask too many questions. People who liked rules a lot might say that she’d stolen the items from a DEPRAC controlled property. She picked and appropriately seedy looking shop, and hoisted her sack onto the proprietors desk.

“What’ll you give me for the lot?”

The fence eyed her shrewdly over the sack as he peered inside, Flo had a feeling that he was more interested in judging how gullible she might be than the actual value of her items. She stared him straight in the face like an opponent in a fencing match.

First he pulled out her gold medal.

“That’s solid gold.” She informed him.

He snorted and pulled an envelope opener from under a stack of papers and made a small scratch on the side.

“Plated,” he said. Flo cursed internally. She supposed she shouldn’t have expected anything else from DEPRAC.

Next he pulled out one of the relics in silver glass case. He eyed it for only a moment before dropping it back into the sack and glaring at her in earnest.

“What sort of place do you think this is?” He demanded.

“What are you on about? They’re the real deal, if that’s what’s got you worried.”

The man pushed the sack back toward her.

“You want to sell sources, then take ‘em to a night market and take your chances with the relic men. I’ll not have DEPRAC raiding my shop over some sources that are probably as genuine as your ‘solid’ gold medal, you hear?”

“Alright, then, have it your way. I’ll take my business elsewhere.” Flo reached for the medal. “As a matter of fact, why don’t you point me to one of these night markets? I’m sure I don’t need some two-bit fence as a middle man.”

“Foolish girl,” the man said. “I’ll give you cash for the lot, but no deal on the sources. If you think you’re brave enough for the relic business, then head to the Hare and Horsewhip. Keep your ears open and your mouth shut, if you know what’s good for you.”

Flo followed the man’s advice. She found her way to the cafe, ordered a cup of coffee, and listened to the chatter. She read all the notes on the notice board, and she listened some more. And the following night, when the city’s street life met in an abandoned warehouse to ply their wares, she was there.

***  
Flo knew she was horribly out of place the moment she stepped foot into the warehouse. Relic men and women filled the dark corners and hovered near tables. All were scruffy, dirty, and unhealthy looking. Flo would have said her own appearance left something to be desired - unwashed hair and clothes splattered with river mud from the knee down - but the sight before her left her feeling like a housewife’s clean laundry blown off the line into a rubbish heap. But old habits died hard, and she’d lived too long as an agent to start lingering in doorways now. She stepped toward two men, built like gorillas, who seemed to be the gate keepers.

“Well, look what we ‘ave here,” the taller of the two said, leering. “What’d you bring, new girl?”

His gaze traveled down her body. Flo swallowed, and called up all the brash confidence she had, which fortunately, was quite a bit.

“Relics - real good ones and all.”

Lockwood had a particular talent for mimicking accents, which she loved to tease him about. Tonight, it didn’t seem so silly after all.

“Yeah? Where’d you get ‘em?”

“Never you mind.” Flo tried to push past the two men. But the shorter one caught her and shoved her back.

“Nobody goes in without us two checking ‘em for weapons, no matter how shiny and pretty they are.”

Grabbing her roughly, both men patted her down, hands squeezing and groping. Unfortunately for them, fencing wasn’t the only form a self defense Harry had taught her. She stomped her heavy work boot down on the arch of the taller man’s foot who cried out and released her. Wrenching the shorter man’s hand off her body and spinning around, she bent his palm backwards until his knees were buckled.

“Touch me again and I’ll make it so you don’t touch nothing ever again.”

Flo let him go, ignoring him as he fell to his knees and spat at her. The whole room was watching now, if her appearance wasn’t enough to draw attention, the scene at the door definitely had been. Flo picked up her sack, and marched resolutely to the table where the most people were gathered. She figured it was as good a place as any, better if the number of relic men standing around was any measure. The others kept a wary distance. Flo hadn’t meant to draw attention to herself, but now that she had, she did her best to keep her chin up and hide her nerves.

After a while, she made it to the front of the line, coming face to face with a woman who looked like a thrift store couch. She also looked utterly unimpressed with Flo.

“You made quite a fuss at the door, I hope what you’ve brought is worth it. If you last in this business, you’ll learn to keep your head down.”

Flo slung her sack onto the table.

“Have a look for yourself, then.”

The woman continued to eye Flo, handing the sources to a child to verify.

“This is good quality stuff - what did you say your name was?”

Flo hadn’t expected the question, but couldn’t afford to stall for time. Fortunately she didn’t have to think hard for an alias.

“Name’s Flo. Flo Bones.”

“Huh. If you’ve got anything else like these, bring ‘em to the next market.”

She handed Flo a stack of cash - more than the fence had given her for all the rest of her items combined.

Flo felt an unexpected twinge of guilt, taking the money, but squashed it down - in the end, for every source they’d sealed, another visitor rushed to take its place. It had always been a fools errand. She left the warehouse with her head held high, sparing a rude gesture for the men by the door.

The money would buy her time to figure out her next step. A good meal at an outdoor cafe, a bag of licorice. She wouldn’t bother with a place to stay, when she knew she’d only end up at the river, but maybe a room with a shower to clean herself up. True, there weren’t many job opportunities for a girl her age who couldn’t be an agent, but she was resourceful. She’d proved that tonight. And best of all, she was independent. Flo felt like herself for the first time in weeks.

But it didn’t last - the money ran out, the only thing she was fit for was the night watch, and even though she did manage to get hired, she only worked a few nights before she was fired for insubordination. She’d told her supervisor what he could do with his iron pointed stick after he’d sent her to oversee a bunch of watch kids barely old enough to be out from their mothers aprons to beat back a specter instead of calling a proper agency.

She sold her rapier, but that money didn’t last either. The next month found her once again at the night market. There were no neat silver glass boxes this time. This time it was sources she pulled from the river mud at low tide. And this time, she dressed the part. Oversized boots of Harry’s, a whopping blue puffer jacket of Susan’s that she’d always claim was warm enough to make up for its ugliness, and a straw hat she’d picked up to keep the sun from her eyes when working by the water. And when she passed the door guards, the didn’t even give her a second glance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! Now we’re getting somewhere! I’m finally writing the parts that are shown in the books, and it’s a lot of fun, so stay tuned. Thank you to those who are reading, please (please please!) leave a comment and let me know what you think.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember in The Whispering Skull, Flo says she thought she said she never wanted to see Lockwood again?

So Flo found an equilibrium. She might have had nothing left to lose, but at least that meant she was free. She found that she could support her basic necessities with the number of sources she found by the river, and the rest didn’t seem to matter. Lockwood still visited her - less often than he used to - but that was fine. She didn’t need his pity. Though she did still enjoy teasing him about his hair and his suits, and his ridiculous accents.

She was glad to see him tonight - he always brought a little light into her dark, damp world. And he usually bought her coffee. They sat together in a small night cafe near the water. Lockwood was unusually quiet.

“What’s on your mind, Locky?”She asked, stirring a copious amount of sugar into her coffee.

Lockwood cleared his throat.

“Ah, well, since you’ve brought it up, I’ve actually an important question to ask you.”

Flo gulped her coffee.

“Let’s hear it, then.”

“I’ve gone and gotten fully licensed to start my own agency. I’m off to a great start already- I’ve been able to take ownership of my parents home, but what I really need is a great operative to help out on cases, and well, naturally I thought of you.”

Flo actually laughed in his face.

“You actually thought I’d go back to being agent, working for you no less? Thanks, Locky, that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard all week, and I hear lots.”

Lockwood looked offended.

“Now see here, Flo, it’s a serious offer. I intend to make Lockwood and Co the biggest name in hauntings, and I need the best. I’ve already got a crack researcher working for me - you two would get on capitally.”

Flo snorted.

“So what? So what if you’re the biggest name in London? Get your picture in all the papers, seal all the sources you can get your hot little hands on. What difference will it make?”

Lockwood open and closed his mouth.

“I’ll tell you - it won’t make one lick of difference. Not in any way that matters. We’re done here.”

She stood abruptly and made for the door. Lockwood threw some coins on the table and followed her out, catching her arm to turn her around. 

“No, we’re not done. How is what you’re doing making a difference?”

Flo shrugged.

“It ain’t. But at least I don’t lie to myself about it.”

Lockwood let go of her and ran his hand through is hair - a sure sign of how agitated he was.

“I’ve got to do something. Even if it’s a drop in the bucket.”

Flo stared off into the night.

“So you fight all the ghosts. What happens when one of them wins?”

“So be it!”

She searched his eyes. They were haunted. The worst ghosts couldn’t be dispelled with lavender and iron. She could tell he was deathly serious. Then his eyes cleared and he shifted tactics.

“What about you? What are you going to do when DEPRAC eventually picks you up for selling relics? You could do real time!”

Flo bristled.

“I can manage.”

“Can you?”

That was over the line. She’d gotten much better - there was a time when she’d never have been able to sip a coffee inside a cafe. But the thought of a small cell terrified her, and Lockwood knew it, the manipulative bastard. He’d thrown it right in her face.

“Get out. Go find some other poor slob to follow you around on your suicide mission. And don’t you ever come around here again!”

Fuming, she spun on her heel and marched way, her steps turning to a run once he was out of sight. It wasn’t true. She did lie to herself, on a daily basis. She told herself she was fierce and independent - fancy words for broken and alone. Lockwood had called her bluff, and now she’d lost the only friend she had.

Back on the shore, she told herself again that she was fierce and independent. She didn’t need him anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Whispering Skull coming up next! Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’ve finally caught up to when Flo makes her first onscreen appearance!

“I thought I said I never wanted to see you again.”

It wasn’t true, she was glad to see him really, in her own way. She spent most of her time around others listening, but she listened hardest for news about him and his little agency - the only thing left of her old life she still cared about. It was good to see him again - looking lah-di-dah as ever. She couldn’t help the jibe about his too tight suits.

She was definitely not glad to see the girl he brought with him. She looked like just the sort or agent Locky would go for - full of zeal for hunting ghosts, ready to fight anything that moved. Flo had gotten pretty good at reading people, it was the only way to survive in the relic business. She could see Carlyle’s disdain for her as clear as day, not that she gave a drowned rat what the girl thought. But even clearer than her disdain, Flo spotted jealousy. Lucy was jealous of the history Lockwood and Flo shared. The girl had it bad for Lockwood. Flo scowled. She’d seen this before, and it hadn’t ended well. Already suicidally self-sacrificial, Lockwood didn’t need another reason to throw himself in harm’s way.

She’d agreed to help, of course, in the end. She was probably always going to. It was daft and dangerous, but that was Locky. He’d be less likely to die if she helped. And that decision ended with her here, in a rowboat with George Cubbins, waiting for Lockwood and Carlyle to make it out of the warehouse, assuming Winkman didn’t get to them first.

“So. You’re Locky’s crack researcher, then?

Cubbins turned from where he was staring at the place that the other two had disappeared.

“He said that?” 

Flo shrugged in answer.

“Huh.” George took his glasses off and rubbed them on a corner of his shirt. “He certainly hasn’t been saying that lately.”

Flo waved a hand airily.

“Don’t mind Locky. All looks, no brains. Just look at what’s he’s up to tonight. What’d you do to tick him off, anyway?”

George set his glasses back on his nose.

“Nothing. He doesn’t see the value in scientific research, is all. And maybe I left one or two of my experiments in the oven, but really nothing bad as all that.”

“He’s always been more into the showy stuff. You know- all flashy and slashy.” She waved her arm as if she were brandishing a rapier. George smirked.

“That’s Lockwood, alright. But what’s the point in fighting ghosts every night if we don’t try to learn more about them? About the Problem and how it started and maybe how to end it? Without knowledge, it’s just a losing battle, that’s what I say.”

Flo eyed him. Lockwood had been right. They did get on capitally.

“You know what I say?” She asked.

George looked wary, like he thought she was going to disagree.

“What’s that?”

“I say you’re too smart to be an agent. Locky’s lucky to have you. Look sharp now, we’re on.”

George reached into his sack while Flo navigated the little boat toward the warehouse. George wound his arm back and heaved a magnesium flare at the window that Lockwood had signaled. The flare sailed from his hand...and splashed uselessly in the water somewhere to their left. Flo snorted.

“Cubbins, you’re adorable. Give me that.”

She snatched a flare, and lobbed it through the window. It smashed through the glass and ignited with a satisfying whoosh.

“Nice.” 

They waited around for a while, but eventually George declared it time to move to Plan H - separate and make their way back to Portland Row. Or back to work on the shore in Flo’s case. She paddled the boat to the shore and splashed out, helping George with sacks.

“You’ve been a great help tonight, Flo,” George said, fiddling with his glasses again. “Maybe you’d like to come for dinner one night, you know, as a thank you. I could show you some of my experiments, if you’d like.”

Flo grinned.

“Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, as always, for reading! Please let me know what you think!


	8. Chapter 8

It was a slippery slope, really, agreeing to help Lockwood. One day it was throwing some flares in a window, and next thing you know, Cubbins and Carlyle turn up looking for help on a case. But all they want is for her to do what she would have been doing anyway: patrol the tideline and keep her eyes peeled for ghosts, and she got licorice and to aggravate Carlyle out of the bargain, so it was a win-win. What she didn’t bargain for was Lockwood showing up and asking for her help on the case itself.

“Ain’t we been over this before?”

Lockwood flashed his “I want something” smile at her.

“I know. I know all your arguments: you don’t want to work for me. You won’t be, strictly a one off. You think running around sealing up sources is a fools errand. This case isn’t. It’s a chance to put an end to a major outbreak. Please, Flo, I need the best. And I still believe in you.”

Flo considered. The department store should be fine - she’d gotten used to being inside large spaces, even for longer periods of time. And the ghosts certainly didn’t bother her. 

“You said you needed to make up the numbers, who else you got on this case? I’m not going to be paired up with no nancies who don’t know a cold maiden from a cold sore.”

“Tell you what, you can have your pick. There’ll be me, Luce and George, of course, and Holly, she’s our-“

“New assistant, yeah, I heard. More of a secretary and a housekeeper.”

Lockwood looked taken aback.

“Yes, I suppose- how did you hear about Holly?”

“Carlyle told me - couldn’t say enough good things about her. Now tell me about the rest of ‘em.”

“Oh, well there’ll be a few agents from Fittes-“

“Fittes? I though you had standards, Locky.” Flo shook her head. 

“They’re good agents, really, theres Kipps, the supervisor, but I’ll pair with him. Balance of power and all that.”

Flo nodded sagely.

“And all that,” she echoed, mocking him.

“You’d hate him anyway. You think I’m lah-di-dah! At least I haven’t got plastic jewels on my rapier. Then we’ll have Kat Godwin, she’s a listener like Luce, though I’d say not quite on her level.”

Flo rolled her eyes. Clearly, Carlyle wasn’t the only one who had it bad.

“To be honest I wouldn’t put you with her either, I doubt you’d get on. Shes one of these real sharp types- you can just tell by looking at her. Sharp chin and all. Last, we’ll have Bobby Vernon - tiny little kid, great researcher. George’s archenemy, I’m afraid.”

“Huh. I’ll take Cubbins. Only one of the lot of you with any brains at all.”

Lockwood grinned, a genuine smile this time.

“Hey, I do alright for myself,” he protested.

“Maybe, but that’s not brains, it’s looks and luck.”

She reached out and messed up his hair.  
***  
Flo fell into the rhythm of being an agent far more easily than she expected. She followed George around the basement and first floor, making note of the temperature readings he read to her. George was generous with his chocolate, which never hurt, either. They worked together companionably, calling to mind the many nights such as this she’d spent with Harry and Susan, good and bad memories that she’d been suppressing all mixing together .

“There’s definitely something down here,” Flo said, “I feel it.”

“Fascinating.” George took another temperature measurement. “I don’t detect any psychic activity yet. Can you describe what you’re sensing?”

“I hear...” Flo trailed off and listened. She wasn’t a listener like Carlyle but her hearing was decent enough. She took a step away from George, who was alternately humming and muttering to himself. “I hear...”

She heard her name. And it wasn’t George’s voice, either. It was a voice she hadn’t heard in years, but was as familiar as her own. She took another step. In the dark, she saw a shape. 

“Susan?” It didn’t make any sort of logical sense - Harry and Susan has died miles from here - but that didn’t occur to Flo in that moment. 

“Flo?” This time it was George’s voice, but she waved him away.

“Flo, how you’ve changed!” The shape seemed to beckon her closer. Without thinking, she stepped forward again.

“Flo, look out!” George’s shout in her ear broke her trance, or maybe him yanking her back by the collar of her coat did that. She stumbled to the floor. George flung a magnesium flare, which surprisingly, landed in the ghosts general vicinity, and exploded. Flo’s saw Susan’s face for a split second before the apparition dissipated, and it felt like loosing her all over again. George turned, crouching down to look into her face.

“Are you alright, Flo?” His concern was genuine. “Who is Susan? All I saw was some black wispies.”

Flo squeezed her eyes shut and scrubbed at her face with her hands to bring herself back to reality and to wipe away the tears collecting at the corners of her eyes before George spotted them. 

“Susan Soanes. My mentor. She’s been gone a long time. Don’t worry about me, Cubbins, I’m fine now.”

George inspected her face a moment longer, but years in the relic business had taught Flo to hide her emotions flawlessly. George nodded once and helped her stand.

“Thanks for your help back there,” Flo said, once she was back on her feet.

George adjusted his glasses.

“Of course. What’re friends for? Anyway, I think that little incident showed us what we’re dealing with.”

“A fetch.” Flo answered him, but her mind was on his previous statement. Were they friends? She hadn’t considered anyone a friend in years, aside from Lockwood, and she hadn’t ever wanted one. And really, she was glad it was George who has seen her at her most vulnerable, he offered no judgment. She supposed they were friends after all. Seeing the Fetch wearing Susan’s face had left her feeling shaken and hollow. She was glad to have faced it with a friend by her side.

They met with the others, and Flo explained what she saw as emotionlessly as possible. They all agreed that what they were dealing with was a Fetch - A ghost that makes a psychic bond with the onlooker, taking on the guise of someone closely connected to them, feeding off something that’s uppermost in the mind.

“So if you’re fixated on something, or grieving, then you’re particularly vulnerable.” George finished summarizing. Lockwood glanced at Flo and she stared him down. He had the good sense not to say anything.

They split up again, and soon enough, all hell was breaking loose. As if the Fetch weren’t enough, now there was a raging poltergeist wreaking havoc on the store. And to top it all off, Carlyle went and fell into a gaping hole to who knows where. There was one on every team. Lockwood went after her, of course, playing the hero as per usual, and leaving Flo with George and Kipps. This was usually when she’d make her exit, knowing DEPRAC would be about to muck things up soon enough, but George was about to have kittens wondering what happened to the rest of his team, and the doom and gloom that Kipps was spouting was only riling George up more. While Flo couldn’t make Lockwood come back any faster, she could get rid of Kipps.

“Ey, Kipps, was it? I hope you didn’t lose any of your fancy plastic jewels what with the poltergeist and all. Offer still stands to gather up some more by the crematorium. All you gotta do is rinse the ashes off of ‘em and their good as new!”

He left them both alone after that.

Eventually, Lockwood and Lucy were recovered, and Lockwood sent George off to slosh through the Thames for an entrance to some sort of room of horrors they’d discovered.

“I’m in,” Flo said, before George even asked.

George really came alive when they began investigating the underground prison. He was more radiant than one of Lockwood’s best smiles. Flo found herself enjoying watching him work, his energy was infectious. 

A team from Rotwell’s showed up not too long after they did, and George got into a spectacular row with the team leader, which ended with rapiers drawn random bones being hurled. None of which would have been so bad if George wasn’t such an abysmal aim. 

“Cubbins,” Flo said, ripping her mud flange from her belt to block a rapier swipe, “if you’re going talk a big game, you’re gonna have to learn to back it up!”

“Lucky for me you’re here!” He answered, cheerfully chucking an arm bone, ostensibly towards one of the agents.

They eventually retreated and left the Rotwell agents to their business. George had a black eye.

“Well, I’m off to Portland Row to tell the others what we’ve found.”

Flo nodded.

“I’ll be off too, then, good working with you, George.”

George adjusted his glasses.

“Yes....same here. You’ve been a great help, couldn’t have done it without you really.” 

Flo waved off his thanks and headed back to the river.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Creeping Shadow time! Other wise known as “everyone misses Lucy.”

“If you’re down here to try and get a new girl to replace Carlyle, you can go look somewhere else.”  
Flo barely looked up from her work scouring the mud, when she heard Lockwood approach . His steps crunched to a halt.

“Wait, you heard about that?”

“‘Course I heard. I hear everything. Now tell me what you want so I can tell you no and get on with my work. I’m very busy, you know.”

Lockwood smiled faintly at her bluster.

“Yes, Flo, I know. I suppose you’re too busy for a cup of coffee, then?”

Flo gave him her full attention for the first time, squinting into is eyes. Something was off.

“Yeah. Let’s go. Coffee’s on you.”

She picked a nearby cafe and they ordered. With coffee in hand and enough sugar to open a bakery, Flo leaned back in her chair and tipped her hat back.

“So tell me,Locky, what have you done this time? And here I thought you really liked Carlyle.”

Lockwood ran a hand through his hair. 

“I did, or rather I do - she’s a fantastic agent.”

Flo scoffed.

“I was wondering- seeing as you’re so good at hearing things, have you heard anything about her? I’ve been scouring the papers but I haven’t seen her name mentioned. I just want to know she’s alright.”

Flo regarded him over her coffee sludge.

“That’s it? Just want to know she’s alright, do you?”

Lockwood shifted uncomfortably.

“Yes. So do you know where she is?”

Flo took a long swig if coffee as she considered the question. She’d known since she’d first met Carlyle that there was more than just professionalalism in the way she looked at Lockwood. She wasn’t sure that Lucy’s leaving was such a bad thing in the long run. Lockwood was clearly distressed, though, he’d even messed up his hair.

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. Maybe I wouldn’t tell you even if I did.”

Lockwood set his tea down abruptly.

“Don’t be like that, Flo.”

“All I’m saying is if Carlyle wanted you to find her, she’d of left a forwarding address. Sometimes a girl needs her space, you know.”  
Flo finished primly.

Lockwood raised an eyebrow.

“Sleeping under a bridge kind of space?”

Flo grinned and shrugged.

“Some girls need more space than others.”

“So that’s it? You won’t tell me?”

“Well, you ain’t told me why she left.”

Lockwood swirled his tea, considering his next words carefully.

“I’ve a sneaking feeling it was because of Holly.”  
“Uh-huh.”  
“Well, I mean that’s not what she said...she said something about her talent endangering the team in Aickmeres, but she’s been acting different since Holly started.”

There was a silence as Flo waited for him to continue, but he made no move to elaborate. Flo wondered if endangering the team through her talent was what Carlyle was really worried about, or if she’d finally caught on to Lockwood’s suicidally self sacrificing tendencies when he had jumped into a literal abyss to find her. Maybe Carlyle was smarter than Flo had given her credit for. 

“Huh. Well,thanks for the coffee, Locky. If I hear anything, I’ll pass it along, maybe. No promises.”

Lockwood looked like he wanted to pressure her for a commitment, but said nothing. Pressuring her was a sure way to turn a ‘maybe’ to a hard ‘no.’

“Thanks, Flo,” was all he said as she left.  
***

“Hey, Flo!”

A few days later, it was Cubbins who was interrupting her work. She straightened up, annoyed.

“First Locky, now you... what do I look like to you people? A bloody advice column?”

George put his hands up pacifyingly.

“Sorry, Flo, I was just on my way back from the archives and thought to stop by to chat. If you’re busy, I’ll go.”

Flo wiped a muddy wrist a crossed her forehead. She’d had to up her game, lately. Her usual fare of washed up artifacts just weren’t bringing in the same prices as before, what with the high quality stuff flooding the market. 

“I don’t mind chatting, but you’ll have to keep up. I’ve a lot of work to do.”

George fell into step beside her as she poked around.

“Well, what’s new then? You all must be busy - understaffed and all.”

George puffed out a breath.

“You said it. I hardly have time to research our cases at all anymore! It’s all running here, running there - cross your fingers and hope you brought enough flares for whatever’s coming at you. Hey, that shiny bit over there looks promising.” He pointed out something sparkling in the mud and Flo headed toward it with George on her heels.

“Anyway, it’s not just the workload, either. It’s Lockwood. It’s like he doesn’t even care what he’s walking into. Which is all fine and dandy, except he always seems to forget that I’m walking in there with him, and I like to have an idea what’s waiting for me in a haunted house, you know?”

Flo nodded, none of this was news to her. Shouldn’t have been news to Cubbins, really, either. She would have pointed that out, but George was still rambling on.

“I mean, he was always like that but since Lucy left, it’s hundred times worse. It’s all me and Holly can do just to keep him from getting himself killed every night. It’s exhausting!”

George seemed to realize that he was prattling on and stopped abruptly. 

“Sorry, Flo, you’re just easy to talk to.” He took glasses off to clean them awkwardly. Flo sighed. It seemed she wasn’t going to get much work done tonight either. She dug around in her coat pockets, coming to an abrupt decision.

“Locky’s lucky he’s got you on his team to watch his back,” She said, drawing a business card out of an inside pocket. “I sure hope he appreciates it. Do me a favor, would you, and give this to him?”

George read the card.

“He was down here a few days ago, wanting information on where she was keeping herself. I didn’t know if I should give this to him but it sounds like you’ve all got some unfinished business.”

George pocketed the card.

“Thanks, Flo. And thanks for listening, you’re a real sport.”

“Anytime, George,” Flo busied herself with poking in the mud again. “Stop by whenever you feel like talking.” She surprised even herself with that, she’d been solitary for so long that she found most people’s company tiresome. But it was the first time in ages someone had sought her out without asking anything of her, and it felt nice. She waved goodbye to George and went back to her work with an extra spring in Wellington’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flo played a huge role in The empty Grave but most of it was off screen.

**  
Flo heard everything. Some, like Carlyle, listened to the dead. Flo listened to the living. Tonight was no exception. It was the talk of every night cafe along the river- she knew, she stopped in all of them. An agent had taken a beat down from some Fittes lackeys. A Lockwood and co agent. Outside of a library. A boy. The blonde one. She gathered the scraps of information, straining her ears for more details even over the pounding of her heart. 

They’d been seeing a lot of each other. George stopped by to see her many evenings on his way back from the archives, and she’d come to look forward to his visits. He told her about his research and his experiments, and complained about Lockwood’s latest hijinks. She talked about her work and the things she heard, and told stories about the daft things Lockwood had done in the past. She was hardly even aware of her feet carrying her to Portland Row, or of pounding on the door until Lockwood let her in.

Something inside her cracked when she saw George lying in Lockwood’s bed, something she’d had walled up inside her since Harry and Susan died. This was why she hadn’t let anyone close to her in years. This hurt. She settled into a chair beside the bed without taking her eyes off him.  
Flo kept her silent vigil until George started to stir. 

“It’s gone.” It took a few repetitions for her to make out his raspy words. “I had it in my hands, but it’s gone.”

His hands moved over the bedspread as if searching for something.

“Shhh,” she admonished him, “whatever it is, we’ll find it. I’m real good at finding things, remember?”

He didn’t hear though. His eyes were darting behind closed lids and his hands kept roaming and grasping at nothing. Flo sighed.

“If I give you something to hold on to, will you quit your fussing?”

It made her feel better to talk to him like he could hear her. She looked around for anything to give him. Lockwood’s room was disgustingly neat. Her bag was full of items, but she wasn’t about to give him a potentially active source as a teddy bear. She wiped her hand on the cleanest part of her T-shirt she could find and reached toward him, brushing his hand with her fingers. His hand found hers and gripped so hard she thought her fingers would crack. But it didn’t bother her, she smiled as he seemed to sigh in his sleep and settled back into quiet slumber. 

After awhile, the closeness of the room began to take its effect on her. She wanted to fidget. She wanted to get a breath of fresh air. She wanted to ensure she wasn’t trapped. She was trapped, of course, very neatly by her own design. But she took courage in the thought that George needed her more than she needed to see the sky. She could be strong enough for both of them. She squeezed his hand back.

“Flo?” He seemed confused when he did finally wake. 

She grinned.

“Good morning, sunshine, glad to see you awake. Can I get you anything?”

George blinked at her.

“Water, please. What are you doing here?”

Flo gently extracted her hand from his and paused on her way to the door. Neither of them were ever one to mince words.

“I’m here because you needed me.”

She paused in the kitchen to step outside the door and take a few deep breaths. She’d been indoors for longer tonight than any time since they’d discharged her from the hospital. Stepping back inside, she fetched a glass and brought it up to him.

He slept again until Carlyle had to come in and wake him up. While Lockwood organized some sort of heist on a senior center, Flo stayed by George’s side, and for a time, it was just the two of them, in their own little bubble of space, isolated from the world and the Problem and nothing could hurt him as long as they were together. But it couldn’t last. The others were back soon enough, having both accomplished their mission and succeeded in making the company a target for half of London. Lockwood pried Flo from George’s side and sent her back to the streets to gather the news. The news was bad. Soon, Lockwood was proposing the unthinkable- building a portal to the Other Side. 

Lockwood set everyone, including George, a task but caught Flo’s elbow.

“A moment, please, in the library.”

Trust Locky to talk like a proper gentleman even when the world was collapsing.

“What? I already said I’d stay and help. Even though I think it’s lunacy. Cubbins can barely stand!”

Lockwood took a seat and gestured for her to sit as well.

“I know, Flo, I appreciate it. But I’ll need you for something even more important. And probably harder, though I think you’re up for the task.”

It was exactly the flattering introduction that most of his ridiculous schemes started with.

“You see, we’ll need someone on the outside who knows what happened here. If things go south, we’ll need someone to bring DEPRAC in. A lifeguard, so to speak, if we end up in the deep end.”

Flo crossed her arms.

“I don’t like any of this. I s’pose I’m to be the one that writes you a nice obituary, too, if you don’t make it out? Take it from me - best way not to drown, Locky, is not to jump in.”

“I know, Flo. I hate to put you in this position, but it has to be you. No ones watching you. Just keep your ears open. If it goes down like we expect, get Inspector Barnes down here. He’s a good egg, really, under all that mustache. Here, give him my card so he knows I sent you. Say you’ll do that for us,Flo?”

Flo pocketed the card, silently. Somehow, quite by accident, she’d come to see herself as a small part of the merry band of misfits known as Lockwood and co. She didn’t fancy losing another team. Susan and Harry had let their feelings make their decisions and it had cost them their lives, and a part of hers too. Flo kind of understood, now: she wanted nothing more than to see George through this thing, on this side and the Other. But if this was the part her team needed her to play, then she would give it her all. 

“Of course I’ll do it, you daft dollop. But I‘m telling you right now - you better not die on me, I’ll write the worst obituary you ever read and that’s a threat. I’ll even find an unflattering picture to go alongside and all.”

Lockwood stood and crossed over to her pulling her into a brief hug. 

She paused to look out the crack in the door at the landing where George was sitting, cheerfully directing the arrangement of sources.

“Will it be awful for him?” She asked as Lockwood came to stand behind her.

Lockwood was silent for a moment.

“It’ll be awful for all of us. But we’ll have each other, and we’ve got you, so we’ll be fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo hoo! 10 chapters, 10k words. I think there’ll be two more according to my original outline. Thanks for sticking with Flo and me up to this milestone!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s showdown time!

She had spent too much time in Lockwood’s house. He was definitely rubbing off on her. That was the only reasonable explanation for why Flo, of all people, was currently walking up the steps to DEPRAC headquarters in Scotland Yard. News was already spreading in the seedier sections of London -Winkman was dead and the entire Lockwood and co team had disappeared through some sort of hellish portal. Some of the members of Winkmans crew had lost their nerve and were already back to their regular haunts, spreading tales of the horrors they’d seen. That was her cue. 

Bustling through the door, she walked up to the reception desk. 

“I’m here to see Montagu Barnes, and make it quick, if you please.”

The woman’s mouth opened and shut a few times and she stared at Flo. She gave herself a shake and put on a professional face.

“The Inspector sees visitors by appointment only, and he has no appointments scheduled at this time.”

“Good, than he’ll have plenty of time to see me. Go ahead, give him a call. You can tell him I’m here on behalf of Lockwood and co. That oughta get his attention.”

From George’s stories, Lockwood had so many run-ins with DEPRAC she wouldn’t be surprised if he had an entire department devoted to him.

The receptionist dialed the phone without taking her eyes off Flo.

“I’ve someone here asking for you....from Lockwood and co.” There was a pause, then the woman put a hand over the mouthpiece. “He wants to know if anything is on fire.”

Flo scratched under her hat.

“Yeah, I might’ve heard something about fire. I definitely heard ‘portal to hell,’ so I’d say that’s about the size of it.”

The receptionist blanched.

“I think you’d better come down here, sir.”

A minute later and the inspector was bustling over, looking harried. Flo almost felt sorry for him - he had no idea what was about to hit him.

“Who are you?” He demanded. “I was expecting Cubbins or Miss Carlyle - Miss Munro if I was lucky.”

“My name’s not important. Why don’t we go into one of these cozy little offices? What I got to say is real disturbing, wouldn’t want to upset your staff.”

Barnes through his hands in the air and then gestured to the nearest empty office. There was a bowl of chocolates on the desk. Flo helped herself to one.

“What’s this all about?” Barnes mustache seemed to bristle with annoyance like the rest of him.

“The short version? Portland Row is under attack by some Fittes lackeys and a pack of rangy relic men. Locky and them built a portal to the Other Side to escape.”

“That’s absurd! Fittes? Relic men? The Other Side? Is this your idea of a joke? Who put you up to this, girl?”

Flo popped another candy into her mouth.

“Nobody put me up to it. If you don’t believe me, just pop on over to Portland Row and have a look for yourself. I seen them building the portal myself. And the news is all over that Fittes and Winkman were teaming up for a hit. If DEPRAC had any idea what goes on this town, you’d already know that.”

Barnes mustache worked.

“I’ll take a drive to Portland Row, only because I do believe that Anthony Lockwood is more than capable of incurring the wrath of any number of London institutions, but you’re coming with me. Anyone remotely affiliated with that agency is a danger to society.”

“What’re we waiting for, then?” Flo took another chocolate and stuffed a handful more into her pocket. Barnes gave her a withering look, as he dialed the phone to ring up a night cab.

“What am I supposed to call you,” Barnes grumbled as they got into the back of the night cab. “You, there?”

He squeezed as far into the corner as he could.  
She took the opportunity to take up as much of the seat as she could, taking a perverse pleasure in making the DEPRAC man uncomfortable.

“Florence Bonnard. Accent in the second syllable if you don’t mind.”

Barnes was watching her through narrowed eyes. 

“Where have I heard that name before?”

Flo shrugged.

“How should I know? I keep myself to myself.”

Before long, the cab rolled up to Portland Row. From the front, it looked more or less normal. Barnes turned on Flo.

“This is the atrocity you dragged me down here to see? Do you know it’s a crime to make false reports to DEPRAC?”

Flo rolled her eyes. 

“Don’t get your mustache in a twist. Come on then, in we go. Didn’t nobody ever tell you not to judge a book by its cover?”

She opened the door and hopped out. Crunching up the path to the door, she pushed it open. The inside was a completely different story. The walls were marked with bullet holes and slashes. Barnes stood in shock in the doorway. Flo patted him on the arm and offered him a chocolate from her pocket.

“Come on,” She stomped her boots up the stairs. Barnes followed mutely.

She pushed the door open to Lockwood’s sister’s room. The portal was a swirling mass of psychic energy, but that wasn’t what made Flo catch her breath. The chain crossing through the middle was severed.

“What is it?” Barnes demanded.

“This portal was made of active sources,” she said quietly. “This chain was their lifeline. Someone’s cut it. They’re trapped.”

Barnes was quiet, he looked shaken.

“I’ll make a phone call, get a team in here. I don’t know what can be done for Lockwood and the others, this is uncharted territory. Show me where the phone is.”

Flo was glad to leave the room. 

“It’s in the office, come on.”

She brought him downstairs to the kitchen, pulling open some random cabinets before finding the one that led down the stairs. As soon as she opened it, she heard movement below. She spun, and put a finger to her lips, hissing at Barnes to be quiet. Flo pulled her slime flange from her rope belt and advanced down the stairs as silently as her Wellies could carry her. One of Winkman’s men was still rifling through the desks.

“Ey, tough guy! Knock that off, you’re making a mess!”

The man spun on her, drawing a short sword and swinging it at her head. Flo was ready for him, she blocked and parried with her flange. Not as well balanced as a rapier, but good enough for this match. In a few swipes, she disarmed the thug and forced him to his knees. 

“A little help down here?” She called up to Barnes. He had been standing frozen on the steps. Flo untied the rope she used to hold her tools from her waist and threw it to Barnes.

“Tie him up,” she said, “then you can ask him all about what happened here.”

Of course, that would have been easy way, Barnes took the hard way. He called for extra night cabs to bring them all back to Scotland Yard to question the thug. Flo wandered back upstairs to the portal while Barnes waited. They were depending on her to get them out. She had to think of something. She tried to think like George would. There had to be another way. She would not stand by and lose another team. She gripped the handle of her slime flange. She wasn’t brilliant like George, but she was fierce and independent. If they couldn’t get back this way, than she would get answers from those silver snakes at Fittes even if she had to do it herself.

She thumped back down the stairs to find Barnes.

“We’ve got to get to Fittes House.”

Barnes was having none of it, of course, spluttering on about Fittes being an influential partner of DRPRAC’s and how he couldn’t just bust in there without any evidence and on and on and on. 

“You’re wasting time we ain’t got.”

Flo glared at him when they were both snugly back in the night cab. Without her rope belt, Flo sat with her slime flange resting across her knees.

Barnes was watching her and her slime flange closely.

“I remember where I’ve heard your name before- you won a fencing competition several years back.”

Flo scrubbed a hand over her face. She was not in the mood to deal with this now.

“Yeah. The medal was plated, you know - didn’t even get a good price for it.”

“They said you went mad.”

Flo’s grip tightened on her knife but she kept her voice under control.

“Maybe you wanna rethink going straight to Fittes house, then?”

Barnes harrrumphed. The rest of the ride passed in silence, followed by an agonizing amount of time spent kicking around Scotland Yard while the thugs captured at Portland Row were interrogated. Eventually Barnes announced that he was going to have a private word with Sir Rupert Gale at Fittes house. 

“You’ve come to that decision, have you? I’ve only been telling you that for hours. You better be taking some serious muscle, I seen him and his boys, they ain’t the type to mess with unless you’ve got backup. Bring the big guns, that’s my advice.”

“Let’s go, you’re coming with me but you’ll stay in the cab. This is a situation requiring delicacy and tact, which doesn’t seem to be your strong suit. No offense, all of Lockwood’s associates have the subtlety of a freight train.”

“Whatever gets us there faster. And bring a team!” Flo yelled as Barnes got back on the phone.

When they arrived at Fittes House, it was evident from the chaos that the team was necessary, and the quiet chat with Gale was not. Flo hopped out of the cab behind Barnes, who was no longer paying attention to her. That was fair, she wasn’t paying attention to him either. Armed with her slime flange, she waded into the chaos, deflecting blows that came her way. Really, she’d seen worse fights break out at relic auctions, some of them started by Lockwood himself. Someone bumped against her back and Flo spun, finding herself face to face with Lockwood. 

“Locky!”

Lockwood flashed her a grin, and she had the simultaneous desire to burst into tears of joy and to smack him upside the head. Tears of joy really weren’t her thing, though. She smacked him lightly on the arm.

“That’s for making me worry,” she shouted over the noise. 

“I knew you’d come through for us, Flo!”

Flo spotted George and Holly in the crowd. Carlyle seemed to be missing.

“Do me one more favor? Help the others get out of this mess. Kipps is injured and I don’t know how George is still standing. I’ve got to go find Lucy.”

He disappeared into the melee as soon as he’d finished.

“Sure. ‘Course. Just don’t to anything stupid“. Flo muttered to no one as she pushed and swiped her way to the others. “I’ve had enough of saving your ass tonight.”

It was over, soon enough - the arrival of DEPRAC pretty much put a damper on the fighting. Flo hung around the edges as the last of Gale’s lackeys were rounded up. Kipps was taken away by ambulance. George and Holly were treated for more minor injuries. Lockwood and Lucy still hadn’t reappeared. There had been a large explosion from upstairs, then nothing. Barnes team went up to investigate, and Flo tagged along, fearing the worst. This was just the sort of blaze of glory that Lockwood would have loved to go out in. Probably gallantly saving Carlyle’s life in the process, or getting them both killed with his daredevil plans. She didn’t have to worry too long. Out of the smoking remains of the top floor, two figures were spotted, walking arm in arm. 

Flo didn’t stop to see them until DEPRAC was finished swarming over them, taking full advantage of the free food available from the cafes that George had insisted Barnes requisition for the occasion. She’d always known that boy was brilliant. When they were finally left alone at one of the cafes, she wandered over. Lockwood hugged her. She guessed she wasn’t the only one feeling uncharacteristically sentimental right now. Hell, she was even glad to see Carlyle. When asked, Flo glossed over the events of the previous day. She should really be leaving, the crowds were thinning and she’d spent enough time with DEPRAC tonight to last her a lifetime.

“Looks like it’s maybe time to go,” she said. “DEPRAC officers and me don’t normally see eye to eye. Special circumstances only. I’ll see you later, maybe. Meantime—try to clean yourselves up!”

“Flo-“ She turned back when George called her. He was adjusting his glasses the way he did when he was about to propose a new theory. “When everything’s settled down, couple of days or so, I was wondering if—”

She grinned at him.

“Yeah, come and find me. I’ll be under a bridge somewhere.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter to go! Thank you for reading!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are, at the end of Flo’s story as we know it in the books. Hopefully the beginning of a new story for her.

A few day’s passed. The world was a different place, even though it didn’t seem that way by the riverside. Flo sat on a low wall at high tide, waiting for the water to rush out and leave its treasures for her. Sources would be getting harder and harder to come by soon enough, she was going to have sell everything she could get her hands on as fast as she could. 

Flo supposed she should be concerned. Her line of work was about to get very cutthroat at best, downright impossible at worst. The tides were changing, but she’d ridden them out before, and she’d been at low tide long enough. She splashed her boots in the water that played by her feet, looking up when she heard crunching footsteps on the shingle. She grinned.

“Ey, Cubbins!”

He waved. His movements were stiff, and she was sorry he’d come all the way out to see her. She got up to meet him halfway.

“Aren’t you looking spiffy, those new glasses?”

She inspected the bruises on his face under the guise of looking at his glasses. The bruises were fading. 

“Yeah. I’m not so sure about them, yet - I was used to the scratches on the old ones. Hey, I brought you something.”

He pulled a bag of licorice from his pocket and handed it her. She grinned again and helped him take a seat on the wall so they could share. She didn’t share licorice with just anyone.

“How’re you feeling, then, George?” She asked, staring out at the water as she chewed her licorice. She felt him shift his shoulders in a stiff shrug.

“Better every day. Really, after being on the Other Side all that time, I’m just glad to feel anything at all.”

Flo munched pensively on her licorice.

“What was it like, the Other Side?”

George took his new glasses off and rubbed them on his shirt, contemplating how to answer her.

“It’s so cold you feel as though you’ll never be warm again. But it’s more than just physical cold, it’s like you’ll never have those warm fuzzy feelings you get when you have a nice breakfast with friends, or smell that old paper smell in the archives, or -“ he paused and settled his glasses back on his face and looked at her. “Chat with someone who understands you.”

Flo cast a sidelong glance at him. He wasn’t one for meaningless, charming words like Lockwood - it was one of the reasons they got on so well. She bumped him with her shoulder with a small smile. George continued.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever stop having nightmares about that place. Makes a person really appreciate what they’ve got.”

The silence hung in the air between them. Even though she hadn’t crossed the Other Side with them, Flo thought she knew that feeling- the feeling that you would never experience the warmth of human connection again. She’d felt it for months, years even, after Susan and Harry died. But even then, there had been Lockwood, who knew her as she once was and never stopped believing in her, and now there was George, who knew her as she was now and accepted her anyway. Coming close to losing them both, she also found herself feeling appreciative.

Damn. She was getting sentimental again.

“Huh. Well, I’m glad you’re back on the right side, where you belong.”

George smiled.

“Me too, Flo. Thanks to you.”

She waved off his gratitude, and with it, George’s unspoken sentiment.

“Bet Locky is reveling in all this glory, can’t hardly go ten feet with seeing him grinning on the front of some paper.”

They slipped back into easy conversation. George told her what had happened since the downfall of Fittes, and how they were happily spending DEPRAC’s money to restore Portland Row. They kicked around some theories about what the world would be like once the Problem was really over, some were serious, others not so much.

“I always said you were too smart to be an agent,” Flo said, grabbing a fresh piece of licorice and handing him one too. “You won’t have any trouble. And Locky, he’ll be fine, too. He can go into toothpaste modeling.”

They both laughed.

“What about you?” George asked. “Seems to me the relic business might get a little dicey.”

If someone else had asked, she would have bristled at the question, but George had never offered judgment. She shrugged.

“I’ll manage.” 

“I know you will.”

He stretched a little and winced. He really shouldn’t stay too long by the water.

“We’ve all got some big decisions coming up.” George continued. “I’m glad neither of us have to make ours alone.”

There it was- the warm fuzzy feeling George was talking about earlier. She stood abruptly and grabbed his hands to pull him to his feet.

“Come on, Cubbins. You’ve been out in the damp for too long,” she tugged him to a stand and put an arm around him so he could find his footing on the muddy, uneven ground. George put his arm around her shoulders to steady himself. Neither one of them let go. It felt natural. Flo grinned.

“Let’s get you back to Portland Row.”

Arms around each other, they made their way slowly back toward Marylebone. George tried to get her to stay for a while, but the tide was rushing out and she had work to do. Outside the door, they said their goodbyes. 

“I’ll see you soon, maybe,” Flo said. “Take care of yourself.”

There was an awkward moment, where neither knew what to do. George fidgeted with his glasses. A smirk grew on Flo’s face. 

“Bye, Cubbins,” she said, leaning forward abruptly to plant a firm kiss on George’s cheek. She was down the steps and out the gate before he could react. 

“Bye, Flo!” He called after her, waving with a bemused smile on his face.

Flo made her way back to the riverside where the water was low and her spirits were high. Her life went in cycles, it seemed - rising and falling like the tides. Anyone who watched the river knew that the lowest ebb marked the turning of the tide, and she’d hit her lowest point ages ago. It was about time to let the waves take her sorrow and isolation. When the new tide rolled in, she had a good feeling it would finally be bringing her to higher ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading to the end, I really hope you’ve enjoyed.

**Author's Note:**

> Someone yell at me to finish this! Will write for kudos and comments. Thank you for reading!


End file.
